


A Devil's Mind

by The_Dimension_Crossing_Mew



Category: Criminal Minds, Devil May Cry
Genre: Authority Has Issues With Dante, Capulet City, Capulet City Police Department, Crossover, Dante Has Issues With Authority, Gen, Kidnapping, Murder, Penelope Garcia Can Find Anything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-05-10 13:29:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5587750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Dimension_Crossing_Mew/pseuds/The_Dimension_Crossing_Mew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of brutal murder/kidnappings brings the BAU to Capulet City, but can these all-too-human federal agents survive where demons lurk in the darkness. And who is the mysterious man in red, and what is his connection to the legendary Dark Knight Sparda?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mission 1

**A Devilish Mind**

 

_The_ _thing_ _I_ _find_ _really_ _scary_ _about_ _ghosts_ _and_ _demons_ _is_ _that_ _you_ _don't_ _really_ _know_ _what_ _they_ _are_ _or_ _where_ _they_ _are_. _They're_ _not_ _very_ _well_ _understood_. _You_ _don't_ _know_ _what_ _they_ _want_ _from_ _you_. _So_ _it's_ _the_ _kind_ _of_ _thing_ _you_ _don't_ _even_ _know_ _how_ _to_ _defend_ _yourself_ _against_. _Anything_ _that's_ _unknown_ _and_ _mysterious_ _is_ _very_ _scary_.

- _Oren Peli_

In the conference room of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, a case file was tossed on the table with a thump.

“We have a new case,” Agent Aaron Hotchner told his team. “ Six families were found murdered in their homes. Each family had a child, a daughter, whose bodies have not been found. It is believed by local law enforcement that the girls are still alive and are being held by our Unsub.”

Dr. Spencer Reid picked up the case file “All of the attacks were conducted in a very violent manner,” he stated, showing the crime scene photos to his team. Many of the bodies had been torn apart, and some showed injuries similar to claw and teeth marks. “Some of the victims appear to have been mauled by some sort of animal. From the size of the wounds, perhaps a bear or a large dog or cat, but the report says that there was no evidence of animals at the scene.”

David Rossi took the file next. “The murders seem to have some sort of occult connection. Look at the symbols the Unsub painted on the walls.”

“They were done in the victim’s blood,” Agent Jennifer Jareau observed.

“It’s not just occult symbols,” Reid said, peering closer at the photos. “There seems to be  a name repeated at all of the crime scenes.” He tilted his head. “Looks like it says ‘Dante.’”

“Like ‘Dante Alighieri,’ author of the _Divine Comedy?_ ” Emily Prentiss mused.

“Possibly,” said Reid.

“Where did this take place?” Derek Morgan asked.

“Capulet City,” Hotchner answered. “Wheels up in an hour.”

“Capulet City… Where have I heard that name before?” Prentiss wondered.

“It’s been in the news a few times,” Reid said. “A giant tower rose out of the ground and then disappeared overnight, destroying several city blocks and leaving hundreds dead. More recently, a terrorist attack destroyed much of the city,” he finished as the team headed out.

Hours later, the BAU were pulling up to the Capulet City Police Department, where they were met by one of the CCPD deputies.

“You the guys from the FBI?” the young man asked.

“We are,” Hotchner answered. “And you are?”

“Sergeant Anthony Molina. The Chief asked me to take you to him.” Sergeant Molina waved another officer closer. “There’s been another attack. The Chief’s there now. Officer Devine and I will clear your way.” He nodded at the approaching officer. “If you’ll give us a minute, just follow the squad car.”

Molina and Devine jogged over to a nearby car and a minute later peeled off, lights flashing. The FBI’S two black SUVs followed it through the winding and dirty streets of Capulet.

In the front SUV, a conversation was taking place between three of the BAU.

“Every other attack occurred at night, when the families and neighbors were asleep.” Prentiss remarked to Hotch, who was driving. “ Why would the Unsub risk discovery by changing MO and operating during the day?”

“Opportunity, perhaps?” Hotchner replied. “Or perhaps the local police department’s lack of progress has caused the Unsub to grow more bold in his actions.”

“It’s far more likely that the Unsub’s behavior is devolving at an accelerating pace,” Reid interjected from the middle row of seats. He rifled through the papers in the case files in his hands. “The first family, the O’Brians, were killed just over a month ago, with the youngest daughter, Melissa, found missing and assumed to have been kidnapped. The second murder/kidnapping, the Johnsons, occurred the week after, and the third, the Rothschilds, followed the same pattern. But, the forth attack, against the Smith family, was just three days later. The fifth and sixth killings, the Patricks and the Stuarts, we’re also three days apart from each other. This attack happened less then two days after the last. Our Unsub seems to move up their time frame for the killing and kidnappings on a regular basis.”

“If you’re right, then the next attack could easily be as early as tomorrow,” Hotchner concluded. “Prentiss, call Morgan and let him know about the possibility of another early attack.”

In the second SUV, Morgan answered his phone and listened to Prentiss’ explanation of Reid’s theory and Hotchner’s conclusion.

“Tomorrow?” Morgan asked in disbelief. “Is he sure?”

“The pattern so far makes it seem likely,” Prentiss answered, her voice sounding tinny through the phones speaker. “Will you tell the others?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Was that Hotchner?” Rossi asked from the driver’s seat when Morgan finished his call.

“Prentiss. She said that Reid noticed a pattern in the killings and Hotch thinks that there might be another one tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” JJ asked. “Isn’t that a bit…early?”

“Reid thinks that the current pattern shows that the Unsub’s behavior is devolving at a steady rate. If they stick to the pattern, they’ll strike tomorrow,” Morgan explained.

Just then, Morgan’s phone rang again. He glanced briefly at its screen before answering it with a smile. “Hey, Baby Girl! You got something for me?”

“You know I do, Hot Stuff.” The caller was the BAU’s Technical Analyst, Penelope Garcia. Back in Quantico, she sat in her personal office, surrounded by the many monitors of her computer network. The plump analyst, her color streaked blonde curls, thick-framed glasses, and her eccentric, brightly-colored wardrobe that so perfectly reflected her bubbly personality, were all lit by the light of her computer monitors in the otherwise dark room.

Deft fingers swiftly tapped out a steady beat on the keys of a keyboard, bringing up multiple images on the monitor currently in front of Garcia. One of the images was a crime scene photo of bloody symbols on a white wall, another was a close-up of similar symbols written on a yellowed parchment. A third window was open on a website page, titled _The Language of Demons_ , claiming to be the foremost authority in the field of demonic linguistics.

“You know those symbols drawn on the walls in the victim’s blood?” Garcia asked.

“Yeah?”

“We~ell, I got to thinking that there might be some sort of meaning behind them, so I went looking for anything that might match, and guess what I found?” Garcia’s voice held just a touch of smug triumph.

“And what was that, Baby Doll?” Morgan dutifully asked.

“More than a dozen matches, dating back as far as 3,000 B.C., and a handful of websites detailing their meaning and origins. You’re not going to believe this, but those symbols are supposed to be from a dialect of language that all of the sites call Demonic. More specifically, the language is Third-Level Demonic,” Garcia explained.

“Demonic?” Morgan scoffed, disbelieving.

“I said you weren’t going to believe it,” Garcia retorted. “But somebody seems to. Whoever did this didn’t just write down random letters and words. Every single line turned out to be a full, complete sentence after I ran them through one of the sites translating programs.”

“And what do they say?”

“They’re mostly threats, taunts, and warnings. ‘Humanity shall fall,’ ‘The Master shall rise, and all of humanity will kneel before Him,’ and a lot of similar stuff. There is one thing, though. Some of the messages seems to be aimed at a specific person.”

“You got a name, Momma?”

“Sorry, Hun, but none of the messages mention by name,” Garcia admitted. “It’s always either ‘son of the Dark Knight’ or ‘scion of Sparda.’”

“‘The Dark Knight?’ ‘Sparda?’ Like the old legends?” Morgan asked. “I don’t remember them ever mentioning that he had a son.”

“Neither do I,” Garcia agreed. “I’m going to see what I can find out, though. There might be something in some of the more obscure legends. Maybe there’s some connection to this mysterious ‘Dante’ that the guy keeps writing about.”

“Is that really necessary? You don’t really believe in that whole demon thing, do you?” Morgan joked, chuckling a bit.

“This is not a laughing matter!” Garcia protested. “Those sites all that the existence of demons seriously, and if our guy does, too, then wouldn’t it be a good idea to know what, exactly, he believes?”

“Easy, Garcia,” Morgan soothed. “You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry. Why don’t I let you do your thing, and you can tell us what you find later?”

“You got it, my chocolate Adonis. Talk to you later.” With that, the call ended.

With a sigh, Morgan put his phone away.

“Demons, the Dark Knight Sparda?” Rossi glanced over at Morgan. “What was that about?”

“Garcia found something on the messages written on the walls of the victim’s homes, and managed to translate them,” Morgan explained. “Some of the messages made references to the old Sparda legends. You know of them?”

Rossi smirked, but kept his eyes on the road. “You’re talking to the man who researched and debunked the existence of killer satanic cults. I know the legends of the Dark Knight Sparda very well.”

“I don’t,” JJ chimed in. “Willing to fill me in?”

“I know some of the more popular legends,” Morgan said, “but Rossi here probably knows them better.”

“Probably,” Rossi agreed. “What you first have to understand is that the various legends and stories all occur over a long span of time. The oldest dates back to about just over two thousand years ago, and the most recent come from the last half of the 20th century.”

“That recent?” JJ said, surprised.

“The newest story is about three decades old now. As for the oldest… Well, most sources agree that, whatever the reasons why he originally Fell, Sparda eventually opposed the Demon Emperor Mundus’ policies on humanity. Sparda gathered an army of loyal supporters and led them into battle against Mundus’ forces. Mundus and his army were eventually pushed back into the demon world. With the help of a human priestess, Sparda sealed the majority of his powers into his sword, Force Edge, and used the sword as one of the keys to the sealing of the tunnel to the Demon World, the legendary tower of Temen-Ni-Gru.”

“What was that supposed to do, exactly,” JJ asked.

“If you believe the legends, the sealing of Temen-Ni-Gru prevents all but the weakest of demons from entering the Human World without help. Supposedly, not even Mundus himself can cross over into this world on his own,” Rossi explained.

“Do any of those legends mention him having a son?” asked Morgan.

“There’s a few. One of the theories given as to why Sparda fought for humanity was that he had fallen in love with a human and had a child with her. Some even claim that it was the priestess that he loved. That most recent legend I mentioned? Sparda is supposed to have disappeared after marrying a human and fathering a child with her,” Rossi said. “Sparda is said to have lived as a human for two thousand years. If he did exist, he could have had multiple children throughout his lifetime.”

“Then those messages could reference any number of children,” Morgan remarked.

“Not necessarily,” Rossi replied. “Until relatively recently, those believed to have demonic blood were unlikely to survive for long due to primitive superstitions.”

“Does it matter?” JJ asked. “Sparda is just a legend. Whoever the Unsub thinks they’re communicating with is likely a delusion, or someone he relates with the Sparda legend. There is no son of Sparda.”

“It’s looks like we’re about to find out either way. We’re here,” Morgan noted as Rossi parked the SUV behind the vehicle of the rest of the team.

The simple, single story track house was located in the winding hills of Capulet suburbs. It’s cookie-cutter looks and manicured lawn blended in well with every other house on the street, and it was hard to imagine the horrors contained within its walls just by looking at its beige stucco façade.

The illusion of suburban normalcy was broken by the yellow crime scene tape and the swarm of police officers moving in and out of the house. All of this controlled chaos was being directed by a single man, and the BAU all exited their vehicles to approach the Chief.


	2. Mission 2

**A Most Stylish Devil**

In Capulet City there was a slightly run-down building with a flickering neon sign over the entrance. This was _Devil May Cry_ , the home of the city’s premier Devil Hunter, Dante, the son of the Dark Knight Sparda.

At the moment, the white-haired half-devil was angrily pacing back and forth in front of his desk. With a growl, he tossed something onto the wooden desktop and slammed his hands on the desk. From six glossy photographs six blonde, blue-eyed girls smiled up at him.

“Those bastards are taunting me,” Dante snarled.

“Of course they are, honey,” Trish agreed. The black clad blonde demon, the spitting image of Dante’s mother, was sitting on the edge of the desk. “No rituals requiring virgins specify blue-eyed blondes. The entire demon underworld knows how far you’re willing to go for Patty. Whoever is behind this is challenging you.”

“I know.” Dante sighed and straightened up. “Have you found them yet?”

“I’ve found a lot more places they’re not.” Trish pulled out a map of Capulet with large sections shaded in. “They’re not at the docks, the eastern warehouses, or any of Capulet industrial areas.” With a pencil, she shaded in those areas with widely spaced slanted lines.

“All we have left to search are the north and west warehouse districts, downtown Capulet, and the abandoned train station,” Dante said, pointing out the areas in question.  “Have you heard back from Lady, yet?”

“I have, but you’re not going to like what she found out,” Trish answered. “She’s certain that she knows the ritual that they’re using. It’s meant to summon a greater devil, one of Mundus’ generals. The sacrifice is supposed to happen when the full moon is at its zenith. The bad news is, the full moon is going to be at its zenith at 12:13 a.m. tomorrow night. Worse news, the ritual requires _eight_ virgin sacrifices.”

“Eight? They’ve already taken six. If these demons are planning on snatching the last two by tomorrow, they’re gonna have to do their hunting in the daylight for once,” Dante reasoned. “That gives us a chance to stop them.”

At that moment, the shops phone rang. Dante picked it up and sat down at his desk, dreading having to tell his client, the aunt of the second kidnapped girl, that he was still unsuccessful in finding her niece. However, it wasn’t the voice of the retired demon hunter that answered his curt demand for a password.

“There’s been another attack,” the unidentified male said. “At 351 Juliet Court, if you want to check it out. Be careful; the FBI has sent a team to take over the case.” With that, the caller hung up, and Dante slammed the phone back down.

In a flash, Dante was on his feet. He grabbed his signature red leather coat off the back of his chair and put it on with his own stylish flair. He twirled his twin handguns, Ebony and Ivory, on his index fingers before holstering them at the small of his back. Finally, he took down his broadsword, Rebellion, from his weapons wall and placed it in the black guitar case that he used for traveling in daylight. He zipped the case up, slung it on his back, and grabbed his car keys.

“Got a lead?” Trish asked, cleaning one of her guns.

“They’ve taken their seventh sacrifice. I’m going to check out the scene.”

A chime rang out as the shop door opened.

“Geeze, Dante, why is your place always such a dump?” a young voice called out.

“Why should I clean up when I have you around, Patty?” Dante joked, turning around to face the young blonde girl. Patty stuck out her tongue at Dante in retaliation.

“I’m not your maid, you big slob,” Patty huffed and rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah.” Dante flapped a hand at her dismissively. “Whatever. I’m heading out. Don’t forget: You’re supposed to be at Lady’s apartment before sundown.” He pointed at her. “Be careful on the way over, got it?”

Patty crossed her arms with a dramatic sigh. “What do you think I’ve been doing for the past month? I’m not a baby, Dante. I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can, but until this job is over, I want you to be careful.” Dante headed past her to the door. “I’m leaving. See ya.” The shop’s door swung shut behind him.

“Hey! Dante!” Patty shouted at the closed door. She stomped her foot and pouted, puffing out her cheeks. “Ooooh, sometimes he makes me _so_ mad.”

Trish hopped down off the desk. “You know he only worries because he cares about you,” she said, moving to stand next to Patty. Her lips twitched into a smirk. “You’re like the little sister he never had.”

“I know. I just wish he wasn’t so overprotective all the time,” Patty whined.

“He’s a Sparda. You’ll get used to it.” Trish ruffled Party’s hair. “I got to get going, too, Sweetie. There are some places I have to look at. I’ll see you at Lady’s later, right?”

“Yeah.” Patty began to fix her hair. “See you later.”

When Trish was gone, Patty huffed, took a look around the messy room, picked up the cleaning supplies she had brought, and got to work. After all, Dante obviously couldn’t be trusted to keep his place clean on his own. And when she was done, maybe she could raid his fridge. Dante’s reaction was always hilarious when he found out.


	3. Mission 3

**The Son of Sparda**

 

 

“I’m Chief John Killian,” the CCPD police chief introduced himself, holding out a hand.

Hotch took it in a firm handshake. “Chief Killian, I’m Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, this is my team: SSAs David Rossi, Derek Morgan, and Emily Prentiss, Dr. Spencer Reid, and our Communications Liaison Jennifer Jareau,”

“Agent Hotchner, thanks for coming,” Killian said, clasping Hotchner’s shoulder with his free hand as he guided him toward the house. “In all my years, I’ve never seen anything like this until I got transferred to Capulet.”

“You haven’t always worked for the Capulet PD?” Hotchner asked.

“I was assigned as Capulet’s police chief a few months ago, after Chief Thomas Malloy retired,” Killian explained. “To tell the truth, Agent, I don’t how much help you’re going to be, now. The bastard finally messed up this time.” As he talked, Morgan noticed a man in a red coat talking to one of the officers on the scene. He nudged JJ, drawing her attention to the man. With a word to Hotch, they excused themselves to talk to the officer.

Barely noticing their departure, Chief Killian continued. “There’s no way that I’m going to let him get away this time. I’m going to nail Dante’s ass to the wall for this,” he vowed as they walked through the door.

“Dante? The same Dante whose name was written on the victims’ walls? You sure your suspect is the same guy?” Rossi questioned.

“Yeah, Dante Spardason,” Killian replied. “He’s a punk who dyes his hair white and takes advantage of Capulet’s supposed past as one of the Dark Knight Sparda’s territories by spreading the rumor that he’s Sparda’s son. I would have brought him in for that terrorist attack a few months back, when I first took the job, but he had too many people willing to give him an alibi for the charges to stick. Until now, the only evidence against him for this was circumstantial.”

“What makes you so certain that it’s him?” Emily asked.

“Because he practically wrote a signed confession this time,” the Chief explained. He led them to the house’s family room. “Here, let me show you.”

The family room was trashed. Blood was everywhere: on the walls, on the furniture, and pooling beneath the three bodies laying on the carpet. Judging by the bloodstained photos on the wall, the victims were the man and woman of the house and their teenage son.

It was the bloody words on the wall that caught the eye, however. Unlike the previous crime scenes, all of the words this time were in English. Spikey letters, written in blood, were scrawled on the pale blue paint, spelling out epithets and threats heralding the end of the world. In larger letters, another message was emblazoned on the wall.

 

**_‘You will never_ **

**_stop us in time, Dante!’_ **

 

“See,” Killian pointed out, “that punk even signed his name again!”

“Actually,” Reid interjected, inspecting the bloody message, “the wording implies that the writer is addressing the message _to_ Mr. Spardason, not from. The Unsub likely has some sort of grudge against him.” Reid moved off looking at one of the family photos next.

“To, from; does it matter? The guy is obviously involved!” The police chief didn’t seem to notice the disbelieving looks some of the officers in the room exchanged at his accusations, but the members of the BAU did. There was obviously a story there, one that they probably wouldn’t get while Killian was in the room.

“This girl in the photo, was she the one taken?” Reid asked, pointing at the picture on question.

Killian nodded. “Katie Cook, their twelve-year-old daughter. Her body wasn’t found, just like the other girls, so we’re working on the assumption that she’s still alive.”

Reid nodded absently, already making his way over to the coroner working on the bodies of the victims. As he did, Hotch and Prentiss were subtly leading the police chief into the kitchen while Rossi was taking aside one of the other officers.

Reid crouched down beside the coroner, observing the bodies with curiosity. “Do you have an idea as to the cause of death?” he asked, looking at the injuries.

The elderly coroner glanced over at him before turning his attention back to his work. “The cause of death appears to be consistent with the previous victims: blood loss from multiple slashing wounds and bite wounds from an unidentified animal,” the coroner said, addressing the open air.

Reid’s eyes narrowed briefly, but he kept his body language open and his voice friendly as he took note of the bodies. “Mr. Cook appears to have had a gun, but there doesn’t seem to be any bullet holes in the walls,” he said, watching the coroner.

The old man’s eyes betrayed him again as Reid heard one of the officers mutter, “He managed to get at least one of the bastards before they tore his throat out.”

Reid followed the coroner’s gave to see one of the CSUs digging out at least two bullets from a large pile of sand on the cream carpet. The woman glared back at him defiantly, obviously daring him to comment, but Reid held his tongue in favor of another question. “Why are so many of you certain that Chief Killian is wrong about Dante?”

Everyone in the room froze, throwing cautious looks in the direction that Killian had gone. The coroner looked around and, seeing no help forthcoming, sighed and began to explain in a low voice. “Young man, I’ve been to a few crime scenes after Dante’s been through them. None of them ever looked like this.”

“Not enough shell casings, for one,” the female CSU muttered, and then it was like a dam had burst.

“Or bullet holes,” someone added, and it just went on from there, each officer and CSU adding their own piece.

“The ceiling’s unmarked. Dante can’t avoid putting gouges in ceilings that are lower than twelve feet high.”

“Or walls.”

“Or floors.”

“Or furniture.”

“He always leaves behind a ton of sand.”

Reid looked at the pile of sand on the carpet. The CSU, now collecting the sand, elaborated. “He would have left enough to cover the entire floor.”

“As you can see, agent-” the coroner began.

“Doctor, actually. Dr. Spencer Reid,” Reid cut in.

“Dr. Reid, then,” the man corrected himself. “We know Dante pretty well. All of us here are either natives of Capulet or have been here long enough to know what hides in the dark. No matter who or what that boy is, Dante is firmly on the side of the angels, no matter how much he denies it.”

“So then why is Chief Killian so intent on him?” Reid questioned.

“Do you believe in demons, Dr. Reid,” the old man asked in reply.

Reid thought back to the events of certain cases, right hand unconsciously fiddling with the thin string bracelet around his left wrist. ‘I… I don’t know,” he finally said.

The coroner nodded, his eyes full of understanding. “John doesn’t. You’ve seen enough to know that some things can’t be easily explained. You have the doubt of a skeptic. John lives the life of a cynic. He doesn’t like Dante because he can’t explain him, and he refuses to believe that Dante is anything other than a criminal.”

“What do you think Dante is?” Reid asked.

“Dante’s either a man with the soul of a demon, or a demon with the heart of a man. All I know for sure is, he’s not the one you’re looking for.”

“Then who is,” Reid whispered, already deep in thought.


	4. Mission 4

**A Man in Red**

 

 

Outside the Cook house, Morgan and JJ watched the man in red, a black guitar case slung on his back, talk to one of the officers. They exchanged words for a few minutes, and then the officer said something that made the other man turn his head to look at them through the white fringe of his shoulder-length hair, before he said a few more words and walked away down the street.

By the time the two agents had reached the officer, the red-coated man was turning the corner at the end of the street, his coat-tails snapping behind him.

“Hey, Officer!” Morgan called, he and JJ pulling out and opening their credentials. “We were wondering if you could tell us who you were just talking to.”

“Pardon, sir?” the officer said, face blank.

“You’re not in trouble, Officer…?” JJ coaxed.

“Morris, ma’am.”

“Officer Morris, I’m Agent Jennifer Jareau, this is Agent Morgan. We just want to know who the man in the red coat was.”

“A private investigator, ma’am,” Officer Morris answered. “Hired by a relative of one of the girls taken.”

“A private investigator? Has he already seen the crime scene?” Morgan asked, voice tight.

“I didn’t see a problem with it,” Morris answered, beginning to get defensive. “The department has worked with him before, on past cases.”

“So why are you so reluctant to talk about him,” Jennifer wondered. “You haven’t even told us his name.”

“Chief Killian doesn’t believe in all of the policies implemented by the previous police chief,” Officer Morris stated.

“And I’m assuming that includes letting private investigators into a police investigation,” Morgan guessed. “That still doesn’t tell us who your friend is.”

“Look, the Chief can’t find out that I talked to him,” Morris insisted. “He’s been after Dante for this since the first attack. He refuses to believe that Dante could be innocent.”

“Dante. Dante what?” Morgan pressed.

“Spardason. Dante Spardason.” JJ and Morgan exchanged a look.

“Sparda? Like the legend?” Morgan chuckled.

“Yeah. Like the legend,” Officer Morris deadpanned.

“You sound like you don’t exactly agree with Chief Killian view of Dante,” Agent Jareau remarked. “Is there a reason for that?”

“Look, I owe Dante,” Morris admitted. “So do a lot of the other guys on the force. I was just out of the Academy, and my partner wasn’t a native. He wouldn’t believe me about not getting out of the car after dark. He convinced me to help him check out an alley. Next thing I knew, he’s dead and I was certain I was next. I would have died that night if Dante wasn’t working in the area. I still have the scars. So yeah, I owe him my life, and I’m not the only one.”

“So you don’t think that he would do something like this,” Morgan remarked.

“Dante would kill himself before he’d ever willingly harm an innocent human.” Morris seemed to come to a decision. “If you want to know more about Dante, you should go see Thomas Malloy. He was the police chief before Killian, and he’s dealt with Dante before. And that’s all you’ll get from me, understand?” He turned and began to walk away.

“Yeah. Thanks,” Morgan said to Morris retreating back. In a lower voice, he asked JJ, “What do you think?” They began to walk back to the house.

“I think we need to tell Hotch.”

They met the rest of the team at the entrance of the house. With a tilt of his head, Hotchner indicated that they head back to the SUVs. “What do you have?” he asked as they walked.

“Chief Killian thinks some guy named Dante Spardason is good for the murders and kidnappings, but not everyone agrees with him,” Morgan reported.

“The coroner and CSUs all agreed that Dante would have left more destruction behind,” Reid added. “He apparently owns at least one gun, probably more. And what sort of weapon would leave gouges in a wall or ceiling?”

“A broadsword,” Rossi sighed. “Apparently named Rebellion. I never would have believed it if the officer I talked to hadn’t insisted that he hadn’t gotten the name wrong.”

“What’s the deal with Rebellion?” Morgan asked.

“It’s the name of one of Sparda’s swords,” Rossi explained.

“Wait. I thought you said that Sparda’s sword was named Force Edge,” JJ pointed out.

“Sparda is supposed to have had three swords. Force Edge was said to have been used to seal the Demon World and Temen-Ni-Gru. Yamato supposedly had the power to open and close portals to the Demon World. The legends say Rebellion was the sword Sparda took up to fight Mundus and his forces. Rebellion is said to have gone to his younger son,” Rossi said.

“Younger? He had more than one son?” Morgan asked.

“There’s a recent story, one I never gave much thought to before now,” Rossi admitted. “It’s claims that Sparda had two sons, twins. Yamato is supposed to have gone to the older twin, while the younger son inherited Rebellion.”

“So, we have a man who is living in a legend, a police chief with tunnel vision, a police force with secrets, and no other suspects,” Prentiss summed up. “Is there anything that can help us solve this case?”

“Dante might not be our Unsub, but he’s currently our only lead,” said Hotch. “We need to find out more about him, and about anyone who might have a grudge against him.”

“The officer that Morgan and I talked to said that the previous police chief, Thomas Malloy, might be willing to talk to us,” JJ offered.

“I got the same name,” added Rossi.

Just then, Sergeant Molina came up to them. “Agent Hotchner,” he said, “it’s starting to get dark. It would be a good idea for you and your team to head to your hotel.”

“Thank you, Sergeant,” Hotchner replied, “but we were hoping to follow up on a lead and maybe talk to some of the families of the victims.”

“You should probably hold off until tomorrow,” Molina advised. “It’s gets dangerous in Capulet after dark.” He looked back at the Cook house, where Killian was just crossing the threshold. “You should probably go.”

“Sergeant Molina, is there something you’re not telling us?” Hotchner inquired.

“A lot of things.” The sergeant turned back to Hotch. “Go straight to the hotel. Don’t stop or get out until you get there, no matter what you see or hear. You’ll be safer that way.” With that, he left.

Throwing suspicious looks around at the remaining Capulet police officers, the team huddled together to discuss their next moves.

“Dave, first thing in the morning, I want you and Prentiss to go to Malloy’s,” Hotchner said, pulling out his phone and dialing. “Find out what he knows about Dante.” He put his phone up to his ear as the call went through. “Garcia, I need you to send Rossi and Prentiss the current address of Thomas Malloy, the former police chief for the Capulet PD. I also need you to find out everything you can on a ‘Dante Spardason.’”

“Um, Spardason, sir?” Garcia asked, blinking in surprise at the page on the computer screen in front of her. There was a picture of a man in profile, wearing a red coat with a broadsword on his back. At the top of the page was the title _Dante Spardason_.

“And Thomas Malloy.”

“Uh, right.” Agent few mouse clicks and a couple of keystrokes brought up a new search engine, where Garcia input Malloy’s name and search parameters. His information came up, and Garcia relayed it to Hotchner. “Okay, Thomas Malloy, age 67, currently living at 1624 Star-crossed Lane, Capulet. Sending the address to their phones, now!” A strong stab of a key punctuated her words.

“Thank you, Garcia. I’ll contact you tomorrow to hear what you have on Dante.”

“You got it, Boss Man.”

Rossi and Prentiss’ phones beeped. “Got it. Looks like we’re going to take another trip in the morning,” Rossi commented dryly, waving his phone around. “We should try to get some sleep in before then.”

Hotch gave a stiff nod. “Let’s head to the hotel and get some rest. We have a full day ahead of us tomorrow.”

The team headed back to their vehicles, mindful of Sergeant Molina’s warning as they traveled straight to their hotel.


	5. Mission 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late posting of this chapter. I've been dealing with a series of fevers from a bad ear infection for the last two weeks. This Monday was the first day in nearly two weeks that I didn't have a fever. Now that I'm getting better, work will continue on this fic.

**Demons in the Details**

 

 

It was nearly ten in the morning when the black SUV parked in front of the small house in Capulet’s historic district. A black wrought-iron fence enclosed a small, well manicured yard. Beneath the white shuttered windows were flower beds filled with a riot of color. Sun catchers and wind chimes glittered and chimed from where they hung from the eaves of the small porch. The bright red door contrasted sharply with the house’s robin’s egg blue paint and white trim, but it only added to the charm of the house. A cobblestone path led from the gate beneath the rose covered arbor to the steps of the porch.

Rossi lifted the latch of the gate and held it open for Prentiss. As they walked up the path, he took a look at the neighboring homes. It was a quiet street, small houses on decent-sized lots, each one different from the next. Many were built with a mix of stone and wood, or stone and brick, the stones likely sourced from the lots they were built on. It was a beautiful and stately neighborhood compared to most of Capulet.

Emily knocked sharply on the brightly painted door, and Rossi raised his eyebrows at the distinct sound.

“A security door,” he commented. “Unusual for an area like this,” he continued, throwing a significant look around the street.

The door’s deadbolt turned and the door was opened by an elderly man. Wispy grey hair still clung stubbornly to the strawberry-blond of youth. Brilliantly blue eyes were clear behind wire-rimmed glasses. “Is there something I could help you with?” the man asked, his voice strong with just a trace of an Irish brogue.

“Are you Thomas Malloy?” Prentiss asked.

“I am,” Malloy answered, glaring at them in suspicion.

“I’m Agent David Rossi, this is Agent Emily Prentiss, with the FBI.” Rossi showed his credentials. “We were hoping you could help us out by answering some questions.”

“This about those murder/kidnappings that have been in the news lately?”

“Yes. We’re looking into a person of interest, and your name came up as an acquaintance,” Rossi explained.

Thomas was silent for a few seconds before backing away, holding the door open in unspoken invitation.

Prentiss noticed the scent of herbs and incense, and the varied religious items on the walls and shelves as they entered the house.

“Would you like some tea?” Malloy asked, leading them past the cozy living room towards the kitchen. “My wife has the kettle on. Maeve!” he called. “We have guests!”

“I’ll be out in a minute! I’m just cleaning up a bit!” The voice calling from the bedroom down the hallway was bright and warm.

“She’ll be a while,” Thomas chuckled, stepping into the yellow kitchen. “Have a seat; I’ll make us a pot of tea.” The air in the kitchen smelled of lemon and vanilla, obviously from the fresh baked scones cooling on the counter. “You said you have some questions,” Thomas said, snatching the kettle off the stove just as it began to whistle and pouring the hot water over the tea leaves in a rose-patterned teapot.

Rossi settled into a kitchen chair, clasping his hands in front of him. “What can you tell us about Dante Spardason?”

“Dante?” Malloy sounded surprised. He took down teacups with the same rose pattern as the teapot. “Don’t tell me you’ve been talking to John Killian. He’d pin every crime in the city on that boy if he could.”

“Dante is not currently a suspect,” Prentiss assured, “but he is a person of interest. We have reason to believe that he has some connection to the incidences.”

The old man sighed. “I was afraid of that.” He put the teapot and cup on a tray and picked it up.

Brisk footsteps heralded the arrival of a short, plump woman in a bright, floral-patterned dress, her steel-grey hair plaited in a long, thick braid. She took the tray from Thomas, scolding him all the while.

“Really, Tom, couldn’t you wait? I said that I would be out soon.” She placed the tea tray on the table before guiding Malloy into a chair. “And where is your cane? You know Dr. Kendall doesn’t like you walking on that bad knee of yours without it.”

“Dang it, woman. I don’t need that blasted cane to get around my own damn house,” Malloy groused. He tossed a sly grin the agents’ way. “Before I forget my manners, let me introduce you. Agents, this is my wife, Maeve, still as beautiful as the day I married her.” Maeve blushed and tittered, turning to plate the scones to hide her apple-red cheeks. “Maeve, these are Agents David Rossi and Emily Prentiss, from the FBI. They want to know about Dante.”

“And what is John trying to blame on that poor young man this time?” Maeve set the scones down on the table and began pouring the tea. “Here you go, dears. Lemon scones baked from scratch.”

“They think he has some sort of connection to those attacks the news has been showing lately. Maeve, you remember Patty Lowell, right? That young girl that’s been hanging around Dante lately?”

“The feisty little girl that has him wrapped around her finger? Of course.”

“And don’t you think that she looks just like those girls in the news?” Malloy asked.

“Oh! Oh my!” Maeve exclaimed in shock, pressing a hand to her chest. “Oh my god, you’re right!”

Thomas nodded in resignation. “About a year ago, Dante took a job as a bodyguard for Patty. Afterwards, she kept coming around his place and hanging out. They bicker like siblings, but Dante won’t let anything happen to her,” he said to Rossi and Prentiss.

Rossi sat back in his chair, spreading his hands slightly. “What else can you tell us about Dante? What’s his personality like? What are his habits? Does he have any known family, associates, or maybe enemies?”

“He’s a cocky son-of-a-bitch,” Malloy chuckled as his wife slapped his shoulder for his language. “He’s loud, brash, and foul-mouthed, with little respect for authority. Dante has a laid-back, devil may care attitude, but he has a soft spot for children, despite claiming to dislike them.

“I don’t know much about his habits outside his work,” Thomas admitted. “I do know that he likes pizza, and has been seen at a few strip clubs and one of the local diners. His family is rumored to be dead. He has two known business partners outside of his manager, and I’ve been hearing rumors lately of a third. I know that Dante has a lot of enemies, but I couldn’t begin to name most of them. The only one that I actually know of is John Killian.”

“Killian?” Prentiss asked. “Do you have any idea why?”

“Because Dante likes to mouth off to authority figures and John doesn’t appreciate being disrespected,” Malloy explained. “Those two have never seen eye-to-eye, and I doubt they will anytime soon.”

“And you don’t know any of his other enemies?”

“All I know is that Dante is too strong for most of them to take him on directly and hope to survive. And that’s likely what led up to this mess,” Thomas sighed, leaning back. “They’re attacking Dante’s only weakness: Patty.”

“So you believe that these attacks are aimed at Dante,” Rossi stated.

“Don’t you? Isn’t that why you’re here?” the old man asked, confused.

“It’s has come up as a possibility,” Prentiss confirmed, “but we didn’t have enough evidence to confirm.”

“I want to thank you for taking time out of your day to talk to us,” Rossi said, looking at his phone. “Unfortunately, it appears that we are wanted back at the station.” He stood up, the others at the table doing the same, and shook Thomas Malloy hand. “Mr. Malloy, your information was invaluable. And ma’am,” he took Mrs. Malloy hand, “your scones were delicious.”

“Why don’t I wrap up the rest for you, Agent,” Maeve said, smiling. She began to set the rest of the scones on a paper plate.

“Thank you, Mrs. Malloy,” Prentiss said, “and thank you both for your help.”

“I’ll show you out,” Thomas offered as his wife handed Rossi the plate of scones, covered in saran wrap.

At the door, Malloy stopped Rossi for a moment. “Agent Rossi, I know that this isn’t what you want to hear, but you don’t know what you’re up against. My advice to you is to leave this up to Dante. He knows what he’s doing.”

“And we don’t?”

“Not this time.” With that, the door closed and Rossi and Prentiss exchanged a look, wondering what the old man meant.


	6. Mission 6

**Profile of a Devil**

 

 

As David Rossi and Emily Prentiss entered the CCPD conference room, they were greeted by the sight of the rest of the team going through the crime scene photos and a box of case files.

“Dare I ask,” Rossi dryly snarked.

“Hey, you’re back,” Morgan said, pushing off the wall head been leaning against, reading a file. “Got anything for us?”

“Thomas Malloy gave us quite a bit of interesting information,” Rossi answered. “And Mrs. Malloy sends her regards and a plate of lemon scones.” He set the plate down.

Reid perked up from his seat at the table. He was quick to snag the plate and unwrap it, popping a scone into his mouth. “Zese er goo’,” he muttered through a mouthful of crumbs. The rest of the team just smiled at the antics of their resident genius.

Reid blushed and swallowed his mouthful. “We’ve been taking another look at the case files to make sure nothing was overlooked,” he explained. “So far, we’ve decided that there were multiple Unsubs at the crime scenes, based on foot impressions and bloody handprints that did not match any of the victims.”

“Spencer also heard one of the officers at the last crime scene remark that the victim ‘managed to get at least one of the bastards before they tore his throat out,’” JJ said. “Daniel Cook was found with a GLOCK 30 pistol, registered in his name. No other bodies but the victims were found at the scene, but the officer seemed certain that there were multiple Unsubs and that Mr. Cook managed to shoot at least one of them.”

Reid got up and put a few more photos on the room’s whiteboard. “There were no bullet holes in the walls, but the CSUs found this pile of sand at the scene,” he pointed at one photo, “and they dug out two bullets that matched the caliber of Mr. Cook’s weapon. A similar pile of sand was found at one other crime scene,” Reid pointed out another photo.

He whirled around with frenzied energy, grabbing a file before turning back to the whiteboard. “The department seems to use a non-standard notation in their files. They note that the piles are made up of a silicate sand ‘of a volume equivalent to one hell dmn.’” Reid copied the notation on the whiteboard. “Non-human blood was found at multiple scenes and is identified with the same ‘dmn’ notation.” Reid stepped back, staring at the board, his brow furrowed in thought. “One of the officers at the Cook house mentioned that huge amounts of sand are often found after Dante has been at a scene.”

“Do you think that Dante actually _did_ commit these crimes?” Prentiss asked.

Reid shook his head. “She was adamant that there would have been more if Dante had been involved. No, Dante didn’t do this, but he is connected in some way.”

“I’ve talked to some of the relatives of the victims,” JJ said. “None of them remembered seeing or hearing about anything unusual in the days leading up to the attacks, and most of them had never heard of Dante when I asked. I did get a few unusual responses from some of them, however,” she remarked. “They got… _cagey_ … when Dante’s name came up, and were reluctant to talk about him. One of them, Amelia Jones, Leslie Johnson’s aunt, refused to talk at all when I asked her about Dante.”

“Is anyone else getting the feeling that the officers in this department are hiding something?” Morgan demanded. “Their case files are practically written in code, nobody is willing to talk, and they’re all acting like they have a secret to keep. A secret that Dante Spardason seems to be right in the middle of.”

“Dave,” Hotch began, “what did Malloy give you on Dante?”

“First off, I found out why Chief Killian doesn’t like Dante,” Rossi said, taking a seat on the table edge. “Dante has a thing against authority figures, and Killian has a thing against being disrespected. Apparently, this isn’t the first time Chief Killian has tried to pin a crime on Dante.”

“Anything else?”

“Dante has at least two business partners, a manager, and an unknown number of enemies. He also was once the bodyguard of a young girl named Patty Lowell, who I’ve been told greatly resembles the missing girls. Malloy believes that our Unsubs are trying to get to Dante through Patty.”

“So why not go after Patty from the beginning?” Prentiss wondered. “Why go after the other girls first?”

“They might not be able to get to her,” Morgan answered. “Dante has to know that he has enemies, and that Patty would be a target to them. He probably has her too well guarded, so they’ve been going after surrogates.”

“Do we have enough to give a profile?” Hotch asked.

“Without more information on Dante or on how the Unsubs are finding their victims, this is probably as good as it’s going to get,” Rossi said.

“Then let’s go.”

A few minutes later, they were in front of most of the CCPD. Non-essential personnel moved in and out of the room as dozens of officers focused their attention on the BAU.

“What you are going to be looking for is a group of Unsubs, maybe numbering between four to ten members, male, likely in their mid-twenties to late thirties,” Rossi began.

“For unknown reasons, they seem to hold a grudge against Dante Spardason,” Morgan added. “However, they are currently incapable of going after him directly, and so have focused their efforts on someone under his protection: Patty Lowell.”

Prentiss spoke next. “Unfortunately for them, Patty is also out of their reach, so they have captured girls with a physical resemblance to Patty as surrogates.”

“Their comfort zone is unusually large,” Reid noted, pointing out this fact with the marked map behind him. “The victims are from all over the city, from both urban and suburban areas.”

“At the moment, the only connection between the families is the girls,” Hotch stated. “Until we know where our Unsubs are finding their victims, we have to assume that their next target could be anywhere in the city.”

“Is this some sort of satanic cult?” Chief Killian asked. “All the crime scenes had occult symbols all over them.”

“The myth of the satanic cult is just that: a myth,” Rossi explained. “There have never been any recorded killings by a satanic cult.”

“Then what the hell are we dealing with!” Killian demanded. “Maybe this, likely that! Do you even know what you’re doing? Instead of wasting our time with this guessing game, you should be going after that punk, Dante!”

“As we have already stated, Chief Killian, we do not currently believe that Mr. Spardason is a suspect,” Hotchner said. “The evidence at this point paints Dante and Patty Lowell as targets to our Unsubs. Your apparent bias against Dante does not change the facts of this case. We will not be bringing Dante into custody at this time.”

“Are there any more questions?” Rossi asked. No one spoke up, so he continued with, “We will let you know when we have any more information for you, so if you’ll excuse us…?”

The team filed back into the conference room as the officers broke off into small groups to discuss what they had just heard. Prentiss closed the door as Hotchner dialed his phone, putting it on speaker as it rang.

“Penelope Garcia, hunter of knowledge! Speak and be enlightened.”

“Garcia, have you found anything on Dante Spardason?” Hotch asked.

“You must be clairvoyant, Boss Man, because I was just about to call you.” Back in Quantico, Garcia spun around in her chair to face her monitors, fingers flying as she brought up information on Dante. “The tale of the Devil Hunter Dante Spardason is a sad, confusing mess that only could have been straightened out by yours truly.”

“‘Devil Hunter?’ Seriously?” Prentiss asked.

“That’s what all the demon hunting sites claim, among other things. I’ll be getting to that in just a second, but first, birth records.” A tap of a key brought up a digital copy of a birth certificate. “Dante Spardason was born to Eva Redgrave and one Sparda, no last name given.”

“His father’s name was really ‘Sparda’?” Morgan was incredulous. “There’s no way that’s real.”

“Well, hunkalicious, I have no way to guarantee that the man in question was the genuine article, but the birth certificates are definitely real. Dante Spardason: son of Eva and Sparda, younger brother by ten minutes to his twin, Vergil Spardason.” Another keystroke brought up the birth certificate for the elder twin.

“There’s nothing unusual in the records for the next four years, then suddenly there’s a series of address changes every few years like clockwork, but there’s no record of Sparda beyond the boys’ tenth birthday. I can’t find a death certificate and he was never reported missing. It’s like he just disappeared one day.”

“They were moving around a lot?” Reid asked. “Like they were running from something?”

“And unfortunately, it eventually caught up to them. I found a death certificate for their mother, Eva. The police report says that she was torn apart by wild animals, _in her home!_ ” A typed command brought up the bloody crime scene photos. “The clips of both her handguns had been emptied and mass amounts of sand were found throughout the house. I’m sending the pictures to your tablets now.”

“Baby Girl, tell me I’m not seeing what I think I’m seeing,” Morgan demanded, swiping through the photos.

“If you think that you’re seeing similarities to your case, then you’re not the only one, hun. I tried digging deeper, but the case was closed as soon as the coroner ruled cause of death as an animal mauling.”

“What about Vergil and Dante,” JJ asked. “What happened to them?”

“The house was a bloodbath, and at the time they were unable to positively identify any remains other than Eva. The twins were listed as missing, presumed dead.” Garcia continued typing, bringing up more windows. “Now, most would stop looking right there, but since we know that Dante is still alive, I started looking for anybody matching the boys’ description, and guess what I found?”

“What was it, Garcia?” Rossi obligingly asked.

“Well, first, unless Dante and Vergil were dyeing their hair since birth, the white hair is natural. Second, someone matching that description was working as a mercenary two years later under the name ‘Tony Redgrave.’”

“‘Redgrave.’ That’s the mother’s maiden name,” Prentiss noted.

“How can we be sure that the individual is Dante and not his brother,” Hotchner questioned.

“His weapons and clothes are the biggest clue,” Garcia answered. “Tony was known for his broadsword, twin pistols, and signature red coat. Dante is known for his broadsword, twin pistols, and a red coat. And if that’s not enough for you, descriptions of Dante’s guns include engravings reading, ‘For Tony Redgrave, By .45 Art Warks.’

“Not only that, but about a year after ‘Tony’ becomes a mercenary, some guy showed up, asking around for Dante,” Garcia added. “No one saw his face, because he kept it wrapped in bandages, but he introduced himself as ‘Gilver.’”

“Gilver could be an anagram of Vergil,” Spencer pointed out. “It was his brother?”

“Seems like,” Garcia agreed. “After a few days, both Tony and Gilver disappeared, leaving behind thousands of dollars in property damage and dozens of people dead. A year later, an eighteen-year-old Dante is applying for a business permit in Capulet, where he’s been ever since.”

“What sort of business, Garcia,” Hotch demanded.

“It’s listed as a detective agency, called Devil May Cry, in a converted studio in Capulet’s Business District, at 676 Devil’s Way. According to certain websites, however, that’s just a front for Dante’s _true_ business: demon hunting.”

“You’re joking,” Prentiss deadpanned.

“I wish I was, sweetie,” Garcia said, bringing up one of the sites in question on the monitor in front of her. “Some minor details vary, but most are in agreement that, along with his manager, Dante has two known partners and a possible third. Capulet is Dante’s territory. Most other hunters stay away, though he doesn’t seem to actively keep people out. He doesn’t just stay in Capulet, either; Dante’s been known to take jobs outside of the city.

“I’ve found some information on him in our systems,” Garcia added. “Most of it is beyond my clearance level, but it looks like the government hired him for a job at some point.”

“Were you able to find any of the details on the job, Garcia?” Hotch asked.

“Negative. Any non-classified details are extremely sparse. I did find a note saying that they ended up billing Dante for property damage instead of paying him. Something about a bridge being destroyed?”

“Mass property damage. Seems to fit with what we’ve learned of Dante so far,” Prentiss commented dryly.

“Garcia, what about the victims? Have you found any connection between the families?” Hotchner asked.

“Prepare to be amazed, my lovelies, as I dazzle you with my fact finding abilities once more,” Garcia replied. “I cross-referenced bank and credit card transactions for all seven families, and I found no commonalities. None. Zip. Zilch. Nada. So, I widened my search to include _where_ in the city purchases were made, and I hit pay dirt. Every family had made purchases from stores in the Capulet Business District less then a month before they were killed.”

“Our Unsubs are using the Business District as their hunting ground,” Rossi said. “Because of Dante?”

“It’s possible,” Hotchner replied. “If Dante and Patty are their true targets, then the Unsubs have likely been watching them for a while. We’ll ask the Capulet PD to increase patrols in the area. They’ve likely already found their next victims, but if they still have Dante under surveillance, increased police presence might cause them to reveal themselves.”

“Is it possible that Dante knows these people?” JJ asked.

“It’s likely,” Hotch answered. “We’re going to need to interview Mr. Spardason.”

“The impression I got from Malloy was that Dante isn’t too fond of Chief Killian,” Rossi remarked. “He’s not going to want to come into the station.”

Hotchner nodded. “Dave, take Prentiss and Reid and head to Devil May Cry. If he’s been investigating on his own, then he might have new information that we can use.”

“It’s not going to be easy, but we’ll give it a try,” Rossi said. He nodded to Prentiss and Reid. “Let’s go.” The trio left the station and got into one of the SUVs, leaving for Devil May Cry.


	7. Mission 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for a short interlude to see what the folks at Devil May Cry have been up to since the last time we saw them.

**No Rest for the Wicked**

 

It was late in the afternoon when Dante got back to _Devil May Cry_. After he had checked out the latest crime scene and gotten a look at the FBI agents on the case, the hunter had searched Capulet’s northern warehouse district for any sign of the demons behind the kidnappings. He had cleared out a number of demon infestations, including a large nest of Blood-goyles, but had found no sign of the girls.

Patty’s constant efforts to keep _Devil May Cry_ clean were evident as Dante walked through his shops doors to see its sparkling clean interior. As he headed over to his weapons wall, Dante’s cell chimed. Absently putting up Rebellion on the wall, he pulled out the phone and checked the message.

It was from Lady, informing him that she and Trish had searched downtown without luck, and were heading back to Lady’s apartment to wait for Patty. Dante sent back a short reply and tossed his keys on the desk and his pistols in one of the drawers. With a relieved sigh, the half-devil sat down and put his feet up on his desk, intending to catch a few hours of sleep before heading out once more.

The loud sound of a slamming door woke Dante from his nap, a quick glance at the clock informing him that he had gotten barely an hour and a half of sleep before his abrupt awakening. The cause was the young man now making his way through the shop.

With his white hair, blue eyes, and fair skin, the man could have been a younger version of Dante himself. His name was Nero, a Devil Hunter of Sparda’s blood. Originally part of Fortuna’s Order of the Sword, Nero had chosen to spend time in Capulet while the uproar over the events surrounding Sanctus’s betrayal a few months before died down. Dante had been quick to seize the opportunity to send the younger hunter on the well-paying but less appealing jobs that Dante got offered, demanding a portion of the payment in exchange for Nero’s room and board.

At the moment, Nero was a mess. Blood and gore in a multitude of colors stained the hunter’s coat and matted his hair. On parts of his exposed skin, a blue-black substance had dried and was starting to flake off. Even the light from his Devil Bringer was dimmed from the thick layers of gore that coated it from fingertips to elbows.

“Ran into some trouble, kid?” Dante teased, smirking.

“Piss off, old man,” Nero snarled. “Why the hell do I always end up on the most disgusting missions!?” He grimaced as he pulled his sodden coat away from his body.

“Because the newbie _always_ gets the worst assignments,” Dante quipped. “Did you manage to find anything while you were rolling around in demon guts?”

“Over a dozen nests of demon bugs, a handful of Soul Eaters, and a big, ugly son of a bitch that literally exploded when I killed it,” Nero reported. “The abandoned train station was a bust for the girls, though.”

“I went through the north warehouses, and Lady just checked in to say that they’re not in downtown, either. That just leaves the western warehouses to search before they grab their eighth sacrifice.”

“Eighth!” Nero exclaimed, shocked. “They only had six this morning.”

“They took another girl this afternoon,” Dante explained, “and Lady says that we only have ‘til just past midnight before they sacrifice the girls.”

“Shit!”

“Tell me about it.” Dante shook his head. “Take a shower, kid, and then try to get some rest before we head back out again.”

“Good idea.” Nero tugged at a strand of once-white locks. “Ugh, it’s in my _hair_!” He stalked off to the bathroom, complaining all the while.

With Nero gone, Dante decided to take his own advice. Grabbing one of the fashion magazines that Patty always left laying around, he turned to the women’s lingerie section, settling in for another hour or two of rest. At least that had been the plan, until three FBI agents walked into his shop a few minutes later.

* * *

 

Somewhere else in the city, seven young blonde girls, frightened, dirty and half-starved, huddled together on a stained and ratty mattress. Suddenly, the door to their tiny, damp and filthy dirt room opened, and a hideous monster pushed in another girl.

“You’re gonna regret this!” the new girl shouted at the closed door. “Just you wait. In a few hours, they’ll find us and then you’ll be sorry!” A few kicks to the door punctuated her words.

Her righteous fury exhausted, she turned around and smiled at the other girls. “Don’t worry,” she assured them. “I know the people looking for us. We’ll be out of here soon, trust me.”

“You sure?” one of the other girls asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“Of course! Dante’s the best! He’ll get us out of here in no time.” _You hear that, Dante,_ the girl thought. _You had_ better _get us out of here._


	8. Mission 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank spring break for getting this chapter out early. All week I've done nothing but watch TV, read, write and play video games. Technically, I write my stories twice; once in cursive in a notebook, and then I transcribe them onto a word processor.

**Conversing With Devils**

 

The neon sign over the shabby shop proclaimed it as _Devil May Cry_ in flickering hot pink. The words were accompanied by a neon outline of a slim, long-haired woman wielding a pair of guns. As Rossi, Prentiss, and Reid exited their car into the balmy summer twilight and then entered the building, the D in the sign flickered one more time before going out, leaving the sign to read _evil May Cry_ in the deepening dark.

Inside, rock music blared from a beat-up jukebox in one corner, next to a drum set and a scuffed pool table. At the far end of the spacious rooms was a large wooden desk. A pair of black boots resting on the desktop was all they could see of the person sitting there, their face hidden behind an issue of a woman’s fashion magazine.

The chime of the bell above the shop door barely budged the man, who called out, “If you’re looking for the restroom, it’s in the back.” A thumb pointed out the way, but the man at the desk never even looked up from the magazine.

“Actually, we’re looking for a man named Dante,” Rossi said as the trio approached the desk.

That seemed to draw the attention of the man. His boots left the desktop and the magazine went down, revealing the man behind it. Icy blue eyes looked them over from behind white bangs. He smirked, planting his elbows on the desk and resting his stubbled chin on his gloved fists. “Well, you found him. So, how can I help you,” he paused, looking them over again. “You don’t look like cops, and with the exception of the kid,” Dante pointed at Reid, “you don’t look like my usual clients, so I’m gonna go with feds,” he guessed, assuming that they were with the two agents he had seen earlier that day.

“FBI,” Rossi confirmed as the three pulled out their credentials. “I’m Agent Rossi; these are Agent Prentiss and Dr. Reid.” Rossi pointed them out in turn. “We were hoping you could help us out on a case.”

“The kidnapped girls, right?” Dante’s voice was surprisingly light for such a serious issue. He leaned his chair back, balancing it precariously on its back legs, and swung his booted feet back up onto his desk.

“We heard you were investigating on behalf of one of the relatives of the victims,” Prentiss stated.

Dante nodded, giving Prentiss a flirty wink. “Leslie Johnson’s aunt, Amelia, hired me to find her niece.”

While Rossi and Prentiss seemed to be unaffected by Dante’s presence, the same was not true for Reid. From the minute he had walked through the doors of _Devil May Cry_ , every hair on the back of his neck had stood up and his well-honed instincts had screamed that he was walking into danger.

Emily and Rossi didn’t seem to notice, but the impression of heading into the lair of a beast only increased as they moved closer to Dante, and it took every ounce of willpower that Spencer had to keep from running away. When Dante finally turned his attention to the trio, Reid’s baser instincts told him not to move, not to draw the attention of the deadly predator in front of him.

Spencer knew that his fear was inexplicable and irrational, but that didn’t stop it from growing at the brief flash of teeth at Dante’s smirk. The mental image of sharp teeth tearing into vulnerable flesh nearly broke Reid’s composure, and he distracted himself by observing Dante’s office more closely.

Only a relatively small area _was_ the office. The rest of the space was devoted to various living areas. A couch facing a table and TV marked the edge of a living room. Down the hall was likely the restroom Dante had mentioned. There was a fridge and a small kitchen up a flight of stairs. Another set of stairs led to what Spencer assumed was the building’s living quarters. The rest of the room was relatively bare save for a wall of mounted weapons and the wall behind Dante’s desk.

It was a macabre display, and it made Reid’s skin crawl just to look at it. Hideously terrifying masks ( _skulls_ ) masks, because Spencer didn’t even want to imagine creatures that had skulls like that, were pinned to the wall with a variety of fantastic bladed weapons.

Spencer suddenly flinched and raised his hand to his temple. There was a susurration in his ears, as if there was a crowd of people in the room whispering to each other. He could almost make out words in the noise, but they escaped him every time he tried to focus on them. Reid looked back up at the pinned masks and blanched. “Is – is that _blood_?” he squeaked, pointing at the masks.

Rossi and Prentiss both glanced at the wall and then looked back at Spencer. “Reid, there’s nothing there,” Emily said, concern written all over her face. However, Dante’s smirk only seemed to grow larger at Reid’s words.

“So you can see that, huh?” Dante jerked his thumb at the wall behind him. “Can you hear them, too? Don’t listen to a word they say, kid, they’re all talk.” Dante took a closer look at Spencer. “You have any psychics in your family? Maybe your mom or one of your grandparents?”

Reid shook his head in indignation. “My mother is a paranoid schizophrenic, and I think I would notice if I had some sort of… psychic ability.”

“It’s not uncommon for psychics to go mad from their power,” Dante commented. “You’ve never just known something, and found the evidence for it later?”

“I have an eidetic memory and an I.Q. of 187,” Reid explained. “I notice things most other people would ignore because it’s my job, not because I’m psychic.”

Dante shrugged, not caring enough to continue arguing. Before anyone could say anything else, a door down the hall was slammed.

“Damn it, old man, when the hell are you going to get that damned water heater fixed!” The complainant was a young man, clad only on a pair of navy blue boxers, vigorously rubbing his hair dry with a white towel. “My shower turned cold halfway through, you penny-pinching bastard!”

The young man brought down the towel, revealing shaggy white hair and blue eyes. He yelped at the sight of the three agents and tossed his damp towel at Dante, hissing, “Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were expecting company?”

Dante tossed the towel back. “Because I wasn’t, kid. They’re feds; here about the job we’ve been working. Feds, this is Nero. Nero, these are Agents Rossi and Prentiss and Dr. Reid.”

Prentiss nudged Rossi, whispering, “Rossi, his arm.” Both hunters heard her words anyway, and the younger tensed at the silent scrutiny of his bared right arm.

The agents’ first impression of the arm was that it was a prosthetic of some sort. It was simply too inhuman to be real. Sharp claws tipped fingers covered in ridged flesh that continued on to the palm, glowing ice blue. Cracked red hide covered the back of the hand and the outside of the forearm, flaring out to a short spike just past the elbow. Pale blue flesh glowed in the cracks, matching the flesh of the hand. The inner forearm was covered in blue scales, bright and glossy. The hide and scales climbed almost to the young man’s shoulder before fading back into pale skin.

However, despite its monstrous nature, there was no way it was a prosthetic. Its motion was too fluid, and they could see the flex of muscle beneath tough hide and hard scale with every move the man made. It was impossible, it wasn’t human, but it _was_ real.

The intense scrutiny of Nero’s Devil Bringer was broken by the sound of the shop’s telephone’s unexpected ringing. With an expert kick to his desk, Dante flipped the phone into the air and into his hand. With a devil-may-care grin at the agents, he rattled off the name of the shop and gave his usual demand for a password.

“ _Dante, its Lady. Listen, is Patty with you?_ ”

Dante’s grin faded. “She left hours ago, just like she’s done all month. She should have been at your place by sundown.”

“ _She never showed up._ ”

The agents of the BAU had seen much in their careers, but never had they seen a man as seemingly laid-back as Dante turn so cold so fast. Whatever he had heard on the phone had turned him into an entirely new man. His expression turned hard as stone as he muttered a curse, his eyes like diamonds.

“Get Trish and head to the western warehouses. It’s the only place we haven’t looked yet. Nero and I will meet you there.”

“ _I’ll call Patty’s mom and have her come over. Maybe Patty just got distracted by a clothing store and is still on her way. If not… We only have a few hours before the ritual deadline._ ”

“We’ll find the ones responsible. And we’ll make them pay.” Dante’s voice was ice cold. He hung up the phone and stood up. “Nero, get dressed and get your gear. We’re meeting Trish and Lady at the western warehouses.”

“Old man – Dante – what’s wrong?” Nero asked, unnerved at Dante’s almost uncharacteristic seriousness.

“Patty never made it to Lady’s place. We’re checking out the warehouses a little earlier then planned.” Dante’s words couldn’t cover the rage in his voice. Nero didn’t talk back for once, knowing Dante’s fondness for the young girl, and headed up to his room to get dressed without a word.

The BAU had been practically ignored for the past few minutes, and Rossi finally spoke up. “You’re going after the ones who took the girls.” It wasn’t a question.

“What do you think?” Dante’s voice practically _dripped_ with sarcasm. The red-clad man pulled out a pair of pistols from the desk drawer, one silver and one black, and holstered them at the small of his back.

“You know we can’t let you do that,” Prentiss protested.

“And who’s gonna stop me, babe?” Dante leered. He walked over to his weapons wall and pulled down Rebellion. He flipped the claymore onto his back, holding it there with his demonic magic. “You don’t know what you’re looking for, or where to look.” Dante looked over the rest of his weapons, but decided against taking anything else.

“Then we’ll just have to go with you,” Rossi said.

Dante sighed. “I can’t stop you from following us, Agent, but you don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

“I keep hearing that,” Rossi noted, “but no one seems willing to tell us what we _are_ dealing with.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Dante insisted, turning away.

“It have anything to do with the rumors that you’re the son of the Dark Knight Sparda?” Rossi asked. Dante didn’t say a word or turn around, so Rossi continued. “That’s Rebellion, isn’t it? I recognize it from its description in the legends.”

“So you know the legends about my old man,” Dante said over his shoulder. “Ever hear anything about me?”

“Not much,” David admitted. “Whatever happened to Sparda, anyway?”

Dante fully turned around to face Rossi. “Your guess is as good as any. All I really know is that one night he went out without his swords, and he never came back. Always figured, he was trying to buy us time to get away.” Dante snorted. “If so, he was a fool. The old man may have been a devil, but he had sealed away all his power so that he was no stronger than a human.”

Prentiss had finally had enough. “Rossi, you can’t be taking this fantasy seriously,” she protested. “Demons? Sparda? They’re _myths_. They don’t exist.”

“And if they do?” Rossi replied. “‘There are more things on heaven and earth.’ It might not be our job to find out were evil comes from, Emily, but haven’t you at least ever wondered? If believing in myths is enough to find these missing girls, then isn’t it worth it?”

Prentiss was momentarily taken aback at Rossi’s words, but any attempt to debate was prematurely ended by Nero’s return. Not bothering to waste time on the stairs, the young hunter jumped from the second story to land on the ground floor with a thump.

Nero had dressed in blue jeans, the bottoms tucked into a pair of black, heeled boots, and a navy blue T-shirt, over which he had zipped a red hoodie under a long, dark blue denim coat. The sleeves of the coat and hoodie were rolled up past his elbows, baring his Devil Bringer. Being the profilers that they were, Rossi, Prentiss and Reid all noticed the matching rose design on Nero’s belt buckle, coat buttons, and one of his two rings. Over his left shoulder rose the hilt of a red bladed, single edge longsword, and holstered at Nero’s left thigh was a blued steel revolver.

Standing together, the two hunters were a study in similarities and contrasts. With their blue eyes, white hair, and fair skin, Dante and Nero could have been brothers, each armed with sword and gun and dressed in a long coat. It was that degree of similarity that made their differences stand out so sharply, most obviously in their choice of color for their outfits. Nero’s preference for blue contrasted strongly with Dante’s obvious love of red, and a discerning eye could pick out the differences between their choice of weapons.

Seeing that Nero was ready, Dante turned to leave with a curt, “Let’s go.” Nero and the BAU followed him out the door, Dante grabbing a set of keys off of his desk on the way out.

Outside, the air had barely cooled, despite the sun having gone down some time before. At the side of the building was parked a little red convertible sports car. Dante and Nero got in and drove off, the BAU’s SUV close behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case I haven't made it clear in this chapter, the case is happening in the summer. A late sunset makes my timeline work better for these last few chapters, so the sun probably set about 8:30 pm. It's about 9 o'clock at the end of the chapter, leaving them with three hours to find Patty and the girls.


	9. Mission 9

**Inner Demons**

 

As they followed Dante’s little red convertible, Rossi was on the phone, trying to get through to Hotchner. As the SUV turned a corner, Hotch picked up the phone.

“Dave, what is it?” Hotch asked, the rest of the BAU gathering around him.

“We have a problem, Aaron. The Unsubs have made their next move.”

“What happened?”

“They took Patty Lowell, and Dante’s gone after them. We’re following him and one of his partners to the western warehouse district now, where he’ll meet up with two others.” Dante’s car turned onto a less crowded street and began to speed up, and the BAU’s SUV followed suit.

“The western warehouses?” Back at the station, Hotchner gestured at one of the officers, who brought over the Capulet map and pointed out the area in question. “Do you know where in the district?”

“No, and Dante looked like he was ready to tear down every building there to find Patty.”

“Can you get him to wait when you find the Unsubs? We’ll be there as soon as possible.”

“I can try, but Dante’s out for blood. Get Garcia to track my phone’s GPS, and hurry.” With that, Rossi ended the call.

At Capulet’s police station, Hotchner hung up and went looking for Chief Killian, Morgan and JJ following behind. They found him in his office talking to Sergeant Molina.

“Chief Killian,” Hotch said. “I need you to send officers to the western warehouses.”

“The warehouses? Why?” Killian demanded.

“We have information that the Unsubs are somewhere in the area. We’re on our way to meet up with the rest of my team there, but I need your officers to provide backup.”

“Dante’s found them, then?” Everyone turned to look at Sergeant Molina, who had still been in the room, unnoticed until now.

“Dante!? I’m not sending in any of my men to bail out that punk just because he got in over his head,” the police chief protested.

“And I’m saying you don’t have a choice,” Hotch replied. “My team is out there with only a pair of civilians as backup. As a federal agent, I’m _ordering_ you to comply.”

Chief Killian stood there, silently fuming, as Sergeant Molina said, “I’ll get some of the men together. More then a few of them owe Dante. He’ll have all the backup he, and you, need.”

“You’re really impressed by this Dante guy, aren’t you?” Morgan stated.

“Agent, when you live in Capulet long enough, when you come across something that shouldn’t exist, you don’t ask questions, you just start shooting and hope to get lucky. On that front, Dante’s the best.”

“You mean the demon hunting front?” JJ questioned.

“You know about that?” Molina was surprised.

“We have a very good tech analyst,” Hotch stated. “If the information is out there, she will find it.”

Sergeant Molina nodded once, satisfied with the answer. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get the men ready.” Molina left, leaving the BAU behind with Chief Killian, who had finally found his voice.

“You don’t honestly believe that demon hunting crap,” Killian demanded. “Dante is nothing more than a delusional criminal preying on people’s fears.”

“And he’s currently risking his life to save eight little girls,” Hotchner retorted. “Whatever you may think of him, that at least deserves our respect. And insuring the safety of those girls means making the greatest effort possible. If that means working with Dante, then we will.”

Without waiting for Chief Killian to reply, Hotchner turned and walked out of the police Chief’s office, Derek and JJ close behind.

They didn’t get very far down the hall before they were waylaid by a tall, dark-haired man in a sharp black suit.

“Excuse me, are you Agent Hotchner of the Behavioral Analysis Unit?” the man asked.

“I am,” Hotch confirmed. “And you are…?” He held out his hand.

“Agent Rick Lopez, of the FBI’s Paranormal Investigative Division,” the man answered, taking Aaron’s hand in a firm handshake.

“The PID? I thought you guys were a myth,” Morgan remarked, shaking Agent Lopez’s hand next.

“We’re real.” Lopez shook JJ’s hand.

“And why is an agent from the PID here on a BAU case?” Hotchner questioned.

“Your unit accidentally ended up with one of our case files.” Lopez explained. “Certain types of cases are supposed to be flagged for my division’s investigation. Possible paranormal activity, cases involving certain persons of interest or known areas of supernatural phenomena. All cases based in Capulet are supposed to be flagged for the PID first.”

“Why Capulet?” JJ asked. “And why did we get the case if it should have gone to you, instead?”

“If Penelope Garcia is as good as I’ve heard, then you already know the answer to the first question,” Agent Lopez answered. “As to the second, a simple clerical error. This case had almost none of the hallmarks for a PID case, and the clerk handling it overlooked that it came from Capulet. By the time anyone realized the mistake, your unit was already on its way here.”

“So then why are you _here_ ,” Hotchner asked again. “This is now a BAU case. We don’t need PID interference.”

“I’m not here to interfere,” Lopez insisted. “I’m here to act as an expert consultant. Whatever you may know, or think you know, about this case, you’re still not prepared to deal with it. I can help you with that.”

Hotch silently observed Lopez for a moment before nodding. “You can stay, but don’t forget that this is a BAU case first and foremost. You will follow our lead, understood?”

“Understood, Agent Hotchner.”

“Then let’s go. We’ve wasted too much time here already.”

As Agent Hotchner was dealing with the situation at the station, the rest of the BAU was driving into the western warehouse district behind Dante, who soon turned and parked by the side of a warehouse. Rossi pulled in next to him and shut the car off before all five got out of their cars.

“Well, we’re here. Now what?” Rossi asked Dante.

“Guess it’s time to put that glow stick of yours to good use, kid” Dante told Nero, nudging him with his elbow.

Nero shoved Dante away with a muttered curse before lifting up his inhuman right hand. He slowly turned in a circle, the glow of his arm fading or intensifying depending on the direction it faced. After a complete revolution, he stopped and pointed off to his right, the light of his arm flaring.

“There. It’s strongest in that direction.”

Without a word, Dante stalked off towards the nearest warehouse in the indicated direction. For some reason his shadow caught Reid’s eye, and a shiver ran up Reid’s spine as he beheld the monstrous outline. He tried to convince himself that it was just a trick of the light, but he still couldn’t stop the instinctive fear that arose at the terrifying sight.

As they followed Dante, Reid couldn’t help but ask Nero, “What is it, exactly, that your, uh, arm, reacts too?”

“Demonic energy. Usually, that means demons and demonic artifacts.”

“Artifacts?”

“Demonic weapons, crystallized demon blood and ichor, possessed statues, that sort of thing.”

“Weren’t we supposed to be waiting for Dante’s other partners?” Emily asked as they approached the building.

“Lady and Trish are searching the north side of the district. They’ll call us if they find anything,” Dante answered, waiting in front of the warehouse doors. “Now, if you agents are ready, we can get started on finding Patty and the other girls.”

“Our supervisor wants us to wait for backup,” Rossi stated, trying to buy time. “Besides, the doors are locked, and we don’t have a bolt-cutter. Are you planning on breaking the doors down?”

Dante raised his hands and shrugged. “If you want to wait for backup, I’m not gonna stop you. But if something ends up eating you, it’s not my fault.”

“And the lock?”

Nero stepped forward, grabbed the padlock in his right hand, and squeezed. The steel lock shattered in his grip. “What lock,” the young hunter quipped, letting the shards fall through his fingers.

Stunned at the casual display of strength, the FBI agents nearly missed Dante and Nero entering the warehouse. Drawing their weapons, they followed the two hunters into the building.

Inside the warehouse, crates stacked nearly to the ceiling were arranged in rows. The hunters and BAU quickly went down the rows, confirming each one as empty. In fact, the entire warehouse was empty of demons.

The group continued on, searching each warehouse in the direction Nero had indicated, occasional reorienting themselves towards the largest concentration of demonic energy. Every warehouse they came across was empty, an unusual phenomenon in demon-infested Capulet. The lack of lesser demons in the area only assured Dante that they were close, as strong demons often cleared their territory of unaligned lesser demons to keep from attracting predators.

Even though they were empty, every warehouse searched took time they could ill afford to waste. It was nearing midnight, the minutes ticking down ‘til the ritual would begin. The girls’ lives depended on them finding the demons responsible, and soon.

Finally, outside of one warehouse, Dante paused. Preternatural hearing picked up the sound of crying and frightened voices. The voices sounded young, and Dante was certain that they had found the girls. “This is it,” he said, pulling out his phone and texting Lady.

“Here?” Prentiss questioned. “You sure?”

“This is definitely it,” Nero confirmed, his Devil Bringer almost too bright to look at.

“We should wait,” Rossi insisted. “The rest of our team will be here soon with the Capulet PD.”

“There’s no time. We’re doing this my way: with style.” For the first time that night, Dante took his sword from his back. With a few swift strokes, the door was down and he was rushing in, Nero close behind. With little choice, the BAU went in after the two.

Inside the warehouse, a giant circle had been carved into the concrete floor, with arcane symbols painted in what disturbingly looked like blood. In the center of the circle was a large stone altar, grooves carved onto the surface and down the sides to the floor, where they connected to what Dante identified as a summoning circle. Chained and shackled naked to the sacrificial altar were Patty and the other seven girls.

Not seeing any opposition, the BAU lowered their guns and rushed over to the girls. Dante went over to Patty, his attention still focused on anyplace a potential threat might be. He glanced at Patty and the other girls, noting that, but for small cuts and bruises and slight malnutrition for the few that had been held the longest, the girls had been kept unharmed.

Not even hours of captivity could completely drain Party’s sass once she saw Dante. “Took you long enough, you lazy butt,” she jested, her voice strained and without all of her usual fire.

“Sorry, brat. Kinda lost my directions to the party,” Dante quipped back, stroking Patty’s hair.

“We need to get them out of here,” Prentiss said, holstering her gun to try to remove the heavy iron shackles from the girls’ limbs.

“We don’t have time for that,” Nero warned. “Company’s coming.” Blue Rose was in his human hand and aimed at the growing sparks of light at the other end of the warehouse.

Dante turned as well. “Patty, tell your friends to close their eyes, okay? This next part is an adults-only party.”

Patty nodded. “Girls? It’s going to be okay. Just close your eyes. Close your eyes and everything will be alright.” Some of the girls whimpered, or continued to silently cry, but they all closed their eyes.

Dante wished for a brief second that they had enough time to free at least the girls’ wrists so they could cover their ears as well. They had been traumatized enough already, they didn’t need to hear what was about to happen next, but at least he could try to spare them the sight.

Dante placed Rebellion back on his back and drew Ebony and Ivory. “Hey, agents! Word of advice: If you don’t want to end up as dinner, aim for the head, and let’s rock!” he advised, and then time was up as the demons finished materializing and attacked.

It was a swarm of Hells, mostly Prides with a few Sloths, Gluttonies, and Lusts mixed in. Bullets flew into the horde, turning many of the slower moving Prides back into sand. The faster Lusts and teleporting Sloths avoided most of the shots and closed in to melee range, forcing Dante and Nero to holster their guns and cross blades with the incoming Hells.

The sound of gunfire was also coming from a different direction entirely. At one of the warehouse’s side doors stood two women, a tall blonde in all black and a brunette in a white jacket and a plaid miniskirt, pouring bullets into the mass of demons. These had to be Dante’s other partners, Trish and Lady.

Lady pulled her oversized rocket launcher off her back and fired until the Kalina-Ann ran dry, every shell obliterating a Gluttony and the surrounding demons. Her weapon empty, she switched back to her handguns.

As he fought, Dante kept an eye on the FBI agents. Despite the shock they had to be experiencing at the existence of demons, they were holding their own. The BAU had put themselves between the demon cohort and the helpless girls on the altar, carefully choosing their every shot.

It was that care to make every shot count that reminded Dante that the three humans had an extremely limited amount of ammo and, unlike Dante or Nero, were unable to create more bullets or simply change to a bladed weapon.

Whatever the three had expected to encounter tonight, they had not been prepared for dozens of demons. Their clips would run dry eventually; making them easy prey for any Hells that managed to get past Dante and Nero, and that was unacceptable. Dante normally enjoyed playing with his enemies, dragging out fights to increase the challenge, but he couldn’t afford to this time.

The BAU could only watch in surprise as Dante _surged_ , cutting a path of destruction as he threw himself into the thickest grouping of monsters. He swung his massive sword one-handed, his black semi-automatic in his left hand, shooting round after round. Nero caught on quickly and was soon beside the older hunter, a twist of his wrist enveloping his sword in flames.

With Dante and Nero in the thick of things, Trish, Lady, and the agents could no longer fire into the crowd for fear of hitting the two hunters. Instead, they took aim at the creatures on the fringes or that managed to get past the two whirlwinds of destruction that was the two demon hunters, picking them off before they could get too close to the helpless girls on the altar.

With little warning, a tall, white-clad monster appeared in front of Reid, scythe raised high. He brought up his weapon and pulled the trigger, but the gun only gave a loud click in response. He was out of ammo and looking death in the face. Before the creature could finish its swing, however, it was suddenly jerked backward with a ghastly shriek.

The demon had been grabbed by a giant, spectral hand originating from Nero’s right hand. The hunter dragged the demon to him, using it as a living shield against a strike from a Hell Lust. Nero shot the Lust through the disintegrating Sloth in his grip, turning that demon to dust as well.

Dante and Nero continued to cut through the horde of Hell demons with swords, guns, and Devil Bringer. Sand swirled and piled in drifts, sparkling like diamond dust in the beams of moonlight that came in through the warehouse’s dingy windows wherever it was kicked into the air. Finally, the two ran out of enemies, sand falling around them like rain.

They had won. The human agents and the girls had survived the demon swarm. Rossi, Prentiss, and Reid were certain that all that was left was to get the girls out and forget everything supernatural that had occurred. It was unsurprising, therefore, that they were unprepared for what was coming next.


	10. Mission 10

**Outer Devils**

 

The BAU began to relax when it became obvious that no more demons were going to appear. The danger seemingly past, the three holstered their weapons and worked on trying to free the girls.

Their enemies gone, Dante, Nero, and the two women also put away their weapons and headed to the altar. The two men brushed sand off of their clothes, having been practically buried in the dusty grains during the battle.

“Why is it always in my _hair_?” Nero complained, shaking his head to try to dislodge the sand.

“I don’t suppose any of you managed to find a key for these,” Prentiss asked, tugging futility once more at the chains binding the girls to the altar.

“No, and we don’t have time to look,” Dante answered. “Nobody can control that many Hells without a Hell Vanguard to command them, and the host of this party still hasn’t shown his face.” Demonic hearing caught the sound of approaching sirens. “Your friends are almost here. They can help you get the girls to safety while we finish taking out the trash here.”

Drawing Rebellion once more, Dante brought it down on the chains that bound Patty, shattering them with a single stroke. Nero also began freeing the other girls, claws tearing through iron links like paper. In a minute, all eight girls were free, only the cuffs of the shackles that had bound them left on their wrists and ankles.

Leaning Rebellion against the stone altar, Dante shrugged off his coat and draped it over Party’s bare shoulders, covering her nakedness. The others followed suit, Rossi and Prentiss removing their suit jackets, Nero shedding both his long coat and hoodie, Lady and Trish taking off their motorcycle jackets, and Reid shucking off the light jacket he had worn to ward off the sudden chill of a desert summer’s night. Soon, all eight girls were at least partially clothed against the cool night air.

By now, the approaching sirens were close enough to be heard by human ears. They were heading straight to the warehouse, following the GPS signal of Rossi’s phone.

The BAU urged the girls toward the hole where the warehouse doors used to be, intending to get them out before another round of battle could start. Through the open doorway, they could see the flashing lights of the approaching police cars. Before they reached the doorway, however, a haunting laugh started up, seeming to come from every direction at once.

“My, my. You aren’t thinking of leaving so soon, now, are you?” a voice called out, echoing throughout the building.

Suddenly, a red light appeared at the bottom of the walls. The light moved up the walls, covering the open doorway and merging at the ceiling, trapping them in a box of shifting red light.

“Shit,” Dante muttered. “A barrier spell.”

“Nobody’s getting in or out until the caster is dead or dispels it, or certain conditions are met,” Trish explained to the FBI.

At the other side of the warehouse, glowing blue dust swirled and spun before coalescing into two figures. One was a pale, gaunt figure clad in a tattered black cloak and wielding a truly massive scythe with a glowing purple blade. The other seemed a normal, ordinary man of average height, slight of build, with brown hair and eyes, and dressed in a slightly worn suit. The look of hate on his face, however, was anything but ordinary.

“The Dark Knight Dante,” the man sneered, bowing mockingly. “It’s an honor.”

“It seems you have me at a disadvantage,” Dante stated, voice deceptively light. “You know my name, but I have no clue who you are.”

“How rude of me. My name is Jarrod Delere,” the man said, “and I, son of Sparda, will be your death!”

“If Mundus, Abigail, and Sanctus couldn’t put me down, what makes you think that a human like you could finish the job,” the hunter replied.

“This pathetic mortal body that you see before you is merely a shell,” Delere asserted. “I shed my humanity long ago in my pursuit of power. You may have shattered my plans to bring a greater devil into this world, but you’re still no match for me!”

With a burst of demonic power, Jarrod changed, his body shifting, flesh flowing like wax. In seconds, what stood in his place was no longer a man, but a monster.

A dog-like head, maw filled with teeth like knives, sat atop a thick, heavily muscled neck. Powerful arms ended in crab-like pincers. Broad shoulders and a barrel chest tapered down to a narrow waist. Strong legs were hooved and a scaled tail eeled behind Jarrod’s body. Scales randomly interspersed the coarse brown fur that covered his body.

“Lady, Trish, help the feds get the girls into a corner and keep them safe. Nero, you take the Hell Vanguard and I’ll take the big boss.” Dante’s grin was frighteningly bloodthirsty. “Let’s party!”

Simultaneously, Dante and Nero rushed their respective targets. As the two part-devils engaged the enemy once more, Rossi, Reid, Prentiss, and the two female hunters backed the girls into the nearest corner. When they passed the broken door, the agents saw lizard-like demons swarming just beyond the red barrier and heard the sound of gunshots. The CCPD had arrived.

Outside the warehouse, the seven squad cars filled with the men Sergeant Molina had gathered were joined by two ambulances and the BAU’s second SUV containing Hotchner, Morgan, JJ, and Agent Lopez.

The cops and the federal agents exited their vehicles, weapons trained on the warehouse’s open doorway. Suddenly, two dozen monsters burst out of the ground between the cars and the warehouse. They looked like giant armored lizards, with long, deadly looking claws on their left hands and small metal shields strapped to their right forearms. The creatures howled and charged the cops.

The officers and agents opened fire. The leading monsters paused, raised shields deflecting bullets, and Morgan cursed. “What the hell are they?” he demanded, shooting at the creatures from around the side of the SUV’s door.

“Demons!” Lopez shouted back from the other side of the SUV. “Blades and Assaults! Their backs are armored, but their undersides are vulnerable. If you manage to shatter their masks, you have a clear shot to the head. But stay behind cover; some of them can shoot their claws like missiles!”

They continued to lay down fire, even as the demons resumed their attack. A leaping Assault caught a stomach full of lead, courtesy of a few well-timed shots by Hotch, and dropped. “What should we do?” Hotch asked Agent Lopez, pausing to reload.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing. If we’re lucky, Dante and your team are distracting their master enough that he can’t summon reinforcements.” Lopez replied.

“And if we’re not lucky?”

“Then most of us aren’t coming out of this alive.” The conversation ended there, the agents too busy fighting off the Blades and Assaults to talk.

Sergeant Molina and his men had apparently come prepared for demons. Most of them had switched out their service pieces for shotguns and assault rifles, nearly every other shot shattering a mask or bringing down a lizard demon.

In less than ten minutes, it was over. Overwhelming firepower had quickly decimated the demons’ numbers before most had gotten close enough to bring their claws into play. The few that had gotten close had inflicted only minor injuries. The most badly wounded was a cop who has gotten hit in the side by the claws that one of the demons had shot off. He and the rest of the injured were being treated by the paramedics as the more able-bodied officers took up their positions once more.

“Why aren’t we going in?” JJ asked, wiping away blood from a shallow cut on her forehead.

“See that red light?” Lopez replied, pointing at the open warehouse door. “That’s a barrier. Nothing’s getting in or out until it goes down.”

“So, what, we’re just supposed to sit here and wait?” Morgan said, agitated.

“Unless more demons show up? Yes.” The PID agent stated.

As the battle outside the warehouse was going on, things inside were heating up. The girls were huddled in a corner of the building, the BAU standing guard once more. With a curt, “Here,” Lady handed over extra ammunition to the agents, having taken note of the types and calibers of each of their guns. Thanking her, the BAU quickly reloaded their weapons and waited, watching the battle.

Nero was taking on the Hell Vanguard blade to blade; Red Queen striking sparks off of the Vanguard’s giant scythe. Moving in a flurry of blocks and parries, almost too fast for the human eye to follow, the two moved back and forth, each gaining and losing ground in turn.

The tiniest of openings in the Vanguard’s defense appeared for the shortest of moments, and Nero took advantage, trapping the scythe in a downward block. He squeezed Red Queen’s gear shift, coating the blade in fuel. With a twist of his wrist, he revved the Exceed system, engulfing the sword in flames as he swung it back up at the Hell Vanguard, triggering at the same time.

The Devil Trigger powered EX-High Roller launched the Vanguard into the air. Not wasting a single moment, Nero followed it up, striking at it with Red Queen and his Trigger’s spectral Yamato. He followed the flurry of blows with a powerful, Exceed-enhanced overhead strike. The red-hot blade split the demon in half, black cloak fluttering apart in ragged strips. The two halves of the Hell Vanguard dissolved into blue sand, drifting down around Nero as he landed back on the concrete, his Devil Trigger fading.

Dante had been just as quick in taking the fight to the monster Delere had become. A slash from Rebellion was blocked by one pincer claw, and Dante briefly broke away to avoid a return strike from its brother. He reversed direction suddenly, dashing back towards Delere. A claw swung at him again as he closed, and with split-second timing he jumped and landed on it, using it as a platform to leap even higher, sword over his head with the intent of cleaving Delere in two.

Once again a pincer blocked his strike, the force of the blow cracking the hard exoskeleton so that black ichor oozed from the fissure. Dante let gravity reclaim him, switching to Ebony and Ivory mid-air to fire continuously at the weakness in Delere’s armor.

Landing, Dante rolled across the ground to dodge another swipe, keeping up his rate of fire. The damage was finally too much for the broken limb and it shattered, spraying black ichor in a rain of goo.

The demon beast roared in pain, flailing about in agony. Dante dodged a stomping hoof, then ducked a lashing tail before rushing back into melee range, absently noting the flash of blue light that heralded Nero’s Devil Trigger.

Another stomp of a hooved foot was accompanied by a shockwave of demonic power, knocking Dante back. The shockwave also kicked up a cloud of sand, obscuring Dante’s vision. Experience and instinct had him running out of the dust cloud just before a beam of light slammed into where he had been standing.

The air clearing, Dante took in the sight of his enemy. Delere had grown bigger, his shattered limb regrown, and spikes now protruded from all over his body. Delere actually seemed to be _absorbing_ the sandy remains of the Hell demons, using the demonically charged dust to increase his own demonic power.

Blue sand joined the stream of dust that Delere was absorbing and Dante knew that Nero had finished off his own opponent. In Delere’s open mouth, a pinpoint of white energy quickly grew, and Dante was forced to dodge the powerful beam attack.

Normally, Dante’s devil blood urged him to drag out his fights, to allow his enemies to pull out every stop so that he could experience new and interesting techniques and tactics before he crushed his opponents once they were no longer interesting. In any other fight, he would have taunted his enemy, enraging them until they had unleashed all they had and everything they knew in their frenzied attempts to kill the annoying half-devil. Once they were done, Dante would cut them down with a quip and a smile.

This time, however, Dante had been eerily silent, not a single joke or taunt falling from his lips since the battle had begun. Nero had followed his lead, the kid uncharacteristically quiet in his own fight with the Hell Vanguard.

Dante was furious, both at Delere for daring to lay a hand on someone Dante considered under his protection, and at himself for letting Patty out of his sight to be taken. Dante wanted Delere _dead_ , good fight be damned, and he wanted it _now_.

The hunter tapped into the power that ran through his veins, feeling his Trigger come over him in a burst of energy. Body overflowing with demonic power, Dante resumed the fight.

The rest of the battle was short and brutal. Every blow of Rebellion rent flesh, shattered bone, and cracked exoskeleton. Every futile attempt at defense was utterly destroyed. The battle was over in seconds, and what little remained of Jarrod Delere was in bloody chunks strewn throughout the warehouse, with the demonic form of Dante standing untouched in the middle of the gore.

The agents of the BAU had watched the battles with growing fear and disbelief. Nero had taken out his opponent with little effort, utilizing that terrifying blue specter. Dante…Dante had become a monster, tearing into his enemy with a brutality better suited to a mindless beast.

The monster that had once been Dante turned toward the group in the corner. Looking like a cross between a lizard and an insect, the red and black-hided creature that strode their way set off a primal fear in the most primitive part of their brains. Its chest glowed with a golden light, pouring from cracks in the red scales as if Dante’s body held so much power that it was straining to contain it. Face emotionless, glowing eyes glanced over them with indifference, and the unprepared humans quailed beneath the devil’s gaze.

All of them, but one.

With a joyful cry of, “Dante!” Patty, still wrapped in Dante’s red coat, tried to run to the devil before them. Prentiss grabbed at her, trying to keep the young girl from racing to her death, but it was a futile endeavor. Squirming free of restraining hands, Patty ran to Dante’s devil-form, tears in her eyes.

Patty didn’t slow down before she hit Dante, the force of her small body slamming into him not even swaying the red devil, and little hands clutched at scaly hide. Black, clawed hands rested gently on thin shoulders, carefully holding Patty as she cried into his stomach.

As the onlookers watched, the terrifying form of the devil faded away. Claws retracted, scaled hide softened, spikes melted away, leaving behind a more human-looking Dante. Murmuring softly to the girl he treated like a little sister, Dante knelt and took Patty into his arms. He picked her up as he stood, holding her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

Only once he was certain that Patty was safe did Dante turn to Trish, Lady, and the BAU.

“Think you ladies can help the feds get the rest of the girls to the proper authorities?” he asked. “Me and Nero are gonna take Patty back to the shop to get dressed before we take her to her mom’s place.”

Lady nodded. “I think we can handle things from here.” She turned to Nero. “I’ll make sure you get your clothes back, kid.”

“Ah, thanks, Lady,” Nero said, rubbing the back of his neck with his human hand.

“Wait!” Rossi called as the two hunters turned to leave. “Thank you, Dante,” Rossi continued when they turned back. “We couldn’t have saved these girls without you and your partners’ help.”

“Just doing our jobs, Agent Rossi,” Dante replied.

Rossi shook his head. “You did more than that. You could have let us walk in here alone, without any clue about what we were up against, and then mopped up after we were dead. But you didn’t.”

“You didn’t deserve that fate.” Dante shifted the sleepy Patty in his arms, moving her so she slept with her head against his chest. “Oh, and, uh, Dr. Reid, right?” Reid nodded. “Think about what I said earlier. Bad guys never expect someone who can literally see what they are about to do next.”

This time, Dante and Nero did leave, going out through the warehouse’s far doors.

“How are they planning on getting back to the car without the police noticing?” Prentiss questioned Trish and Lady.

“The rooftops, probably,” Trish answered.

“Speaking from experience there?” Lady quipped. Trish only smirked in response.

“Are we going home?” one of the girls asked in a small voice, pulling Lady’s motorcycle jacket tighter around her.

“Not yet, sweetie,” Rossi replied, his voice low and soothing. “First we have to get you girls somewhere safe and have a doctor take a look at you.”

“But…our parents…our families…” another girl spoke up, her voice trailing off.

“I’m sorry,” Reid began. “Your relatives have been contacted, and some of them are already in the city, waiting for you.”

Prentiss walked over to the ruins of the warehouse doors. “Come on; let’s get you out of here.”

They led the girls out of the warehouse to the sight of half a dozen squad cars, lights flashing, and armed officers with their weapons trained on the warehouse doorway.

At the sight of the girls, the officers lowered their guns. The next hour was a blur of activity. Armed police stormed the empty warehouse, searching for any sign of the perpetrators. The remaining seven girls were rushed to the waiting ambulances, where they were wrapped up in shock blankets and looked over by paramedics. Anxious relatives exited cop cars to tearfully reunite with nieces, cousins, and granddaughters.

Off to the side, watching the controlled chaos of the crime scene, were Agent Lopez and the reunited BAU.

“So, what happened to you?” Prentiss asked, pointing to the bandage on JJ’s head.

JJ lightly touched the bandage. “Demons, according to Lopez. I didn’t quite duck fast enough and got clipped by a claw.”

“You fought demons, too?” Reid was surprised.

“Yeah,” Morgan confirmed. “There was a whole swarm of giant lizards. The bodies dissolved and disappeared a few minutes before you came out, though.”

“Dave, what happened in there?” Hotch asked. “Where are the Unsubs?”

“Un _sub_ ,” Rossi corrected. “He said his name was Jarrod Delere.”

“Where is he, man,” Morgan demanded. “Don’t tell me he got away!”

“I almost wish he did,” said Rossi. “All they’ll find in there are scattered chunks of flesh.”

“Rossi, what _happened?_ ” JJ asked.

“Delere turned into a monster. And then Dante turned into something _worse_.” Rossi shook his head. “Dante really is his father’s son. Thankfully for us, he also seems to share his father’s love of humans.”

“That sounds about right,” Lopez finally spoke up. “We’d be in a lot of trouble if Dante _didn’t_ take after Sparda so much.”

“And you are?” asked Reid.

“Agent Rick Lopez, from the FBI’s Paranormal Investigative Division.” He waved his hand at the crime scene. “This case was supposed to be ours, but it ended up in the BAU’s hands by mistake.”

“What would have happened if the PID had gotten the case?” Prentiss asked.

“Truth be told, it wouldn’t have been much different than this,” Lopez admitted. “We would have gotten in contact with Dante or one of his partners and hired them to find the girls and kill the demons. Stuff like this is too big for our usual teams to handle.”

“Dante might have even done it for free,” a voice said from behind them. The agents turned to see Lady and Trish, back in their jackets, walking towards them, Lady carrying Nero’s coat and hoodie. “Dante tries to hide it, but he has a ridiculously big heart,” Lady continued. “He has a tendency to waive his fee if he believes the cause is worth it.”

“Thank you for your help, ladies,” Rossi said. “I don’t think Dante ever introduced us, though.”

“Lady.”

“Trish. And there’s really no need to thank us,” Trish assured. “Like Dante said, we were just doing our jobs.”

“We should probably get going,” Lady stated, eyeing the cops on the scene. “It’ll save us from the inevitable questions. Good luck, agents.”

The two women turned away and walked into the darkness, leaving Lopez, the BAU, and unanswered questions behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now all that's left is the epilogue. Finals are next Tuesday, and I want to get this done before my family heads to Nebraska for the annual family reunion, so I should be finished within the next two weeks.


	11. Epilogue

**Of Men, Devils, and Angels**

_It was pride that changed angels into devils; it is humility that makes men as angels._

_-Saint Augustine_

The team’s return to Quantico was shockingly normal after their time in Capulet. One of their major worries had been how they were going to write up their reports, as they knew that no-one who wasn’t already in the know would believe them.

To their relief, the Paranormal Investigative Division had had the case retroactively assigned to the PID, with the BAU officially listed as consultants. Their reports were therefore sent to the PID’s Assistant Director instead of Strauss.

Despite their efforts to get back to their everyday lives after their adventures in Capulet, the team found that it was difficult to act as if nothing had happened. Garcia, worried about her family of choice, had insisted that they all carry anti-demon charms and ward-offs. Her own office and apartment now had wards set up, and she carried on her at all times a small vial of holy water.

Hotchner had also invested in wards for his home. Now that he knew of another potential threat to his family, Aaron refused to let them go out unprotected. Haley and Jack now both wore protective charms, disguised as jewelry.

Morgan and Prentiss had taken to going to church more often. JJ now looks at every case file that crosses her desk with suspicion, wondering how many cases had a demonic connection, how many had supernatural causes.

Reid eventually broke down and followed Dante’s advice. He started to research psychic abilities and phenomenon, focusing on instances where there had been no reasonable way for the psychic to gain information from other sources or by other means. He even visited his mother to ask about their family history.

When he asked her if she knew if there had ever been rumors of unusual happenings or abilities in their family, her answer had been surprising. Apparently, there had been a great-great-grandmother on his mother’s side who had gained a small amount of fame as a clairvoyant, another relative who had made a living as a dowser, and a distant cousin who read palms. In Reid’s mother’s family, psychic powers were as common as mental illness.

Rossi was the only one taking the revelation in stride. The knowledge that the legends that he had spent so much of his life researching were at least mostly true actually bemused him. He had always wondered if Sparda had existed, if demons were real. A part of him had always wanted to believe, but there had never been any proof before the Capulet case. The knowledge that demons exist, and could be fought, was almost a comfort for Rossi.

The BAU weren’t the only ones adjusting to life in the aftermath of Delere’s attacks.

Back in Capulet, it was taking a while for things to get back to normal. The kidnapped girls were trying to get their lives back together. Some had left the city, whether with relatives or because of Child Services when their relatives proved unable to take care of them. It was the same with those still in Capulet, who were also dealing with being surrounded by reminders of their lost families and lives.

Even the hunters of _Devil May Cry_ hadn’t been unaffected. Dante was reluctant to let Patty out of his sight unless she was with Lady, Trish, or Nero. Uncharacteristically, Patty didn’t complain about this constant supervision. For the past few weeks, she had taken to staying at _Devil May Cry_ as often and as long as possible, sticking close to Dante as much as she could.

It would be a long time before everyone involved in the case completely returned to their normal lives. No matter what, however, there would always be another day, another case, and another job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, folks. My finals are done, and so is this story. Thank you all for reading!


End file.
